Heavy Duty Reconnaissance
by AlienEeeter
Summary: Tonks is sent to spy on the Malfoys, but she hates trees, and decided to go in for a more...intimate encounter with Draco. Bizzare as all get out.


A/N: I'm terribly sorry. I couldn't help it. It just happened.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. I take no claim to the characters.  
  
"Heavy Duty Reconnaissance"  
  
I was up a tree, spying on the Malfoy manor. I hate trees. Uncomfortable as hell, I can never find a tolerable way to sit. I had morphed myself an extra-cushy butt to ease the experience, but it really didn't help any. (Aurors, however, often have unpleasant jobs, and I had learned to deal.) Lucius Malfoy had been in Azkaban for a mere three weeks, but I had been sent to keep an eye on his house, in case the family was up to something.  
  
Narcissa had done some gardening earlier that day, but the boy, as far as I knew, had not left his room. Yesterday he had been ranting about killing Harry. I had strung an extendable ear from my tree to his room. The most disturbing thing was that he had been ranting to no one in particular. He was alone. We had concerns with him, and they were not unfounded.  
  
My butt going numb, I attempted to get to my feet, only to slip and crash through the branches. I hit the ground flat on my back, knocking the wind out of myself. I lay there recovering before I got up. "All right," I muttered to myself. "Enough of all this shit. Time for some heavy duty reconnaissance."  
  
I let my skin and hair turn from the camouflage green and brown back to normal tones, then I morphed into a younger, fatter, more male creature. My robes were a uni-sex black. I checked the mirror I always carried with me. Yep. I looked just like Vincent Crabbe, one of Draco Malfoy's little buddies. Proud of myself, I headed to the front door.  
  
Of course going into a house as another person was dangerous, but I just could not take the tedium of that tree any longer. Certainly, I was going to get my ass thrashed if anyone ever found out, but how could they?  
  
Narcissa answered on my third knock. "Oh," she said blankly. "It's just you. Draco is in his room. Go on up."  
  
"Thank you, Ma'am," I replied, hoping that this boy was normally polite. Taking the staircase up to the second floor, I had a pretty good idea of where his room was from my time spent outside of the house. His door was open, and he was sitting at an ornate writing desk in a green and black dressing gown—silk, most likely.  
  
He turned at my approach. "Hullo, Crabbe," he said, seemingly tired. He got up and walked over to me.  
  
"Afternoon," I replied in vague tones. "How are you?  
  
"Tired, angry, frustrated. Mother's been on edge lately. She has people working on getting father out of Azkaban, but things aren't going very well. It's upsetting. But you know all about it. I forget, sometimes, that you're going through the same thing."  
  
As he said this he came up to me, and to my shock, wrapped his arms around my middle. I had never been a teenage boy with another teenage boy clinging to me before. I didn't know what to do. It suddenly occurred to me that there may be more than friendship between the two boys. Finally I laid my hands on his shoulders and massaged them gently.  
  
"You're tense," I managed to say.  
  
He rested his head on my shoulder. "I know." He kissed my neck, and I became less confused and more disturbed. If Draco Malfoy wanted to be gay, that was fine with me, but one would think he would have better taste than the bowl of pudding I was pretending to be. "I know what you could do to resolve that little problem for me."  
  
His voice was soft, and oozed with innuendo. "What's that?" I asked. Nymphadora Tonks was far from naive. I had a pretty good idea of what he wanted, and didn't know what to do. I mean, Vincent Crabbe was obviously the bottom in this duo, and I didn't like the idea of that at all.  
  
"You know." He took my hand and guided it to the knotted belt of his robe. I undid it stealthily, wondering how the heck I was going to get out of the mess. He stepped away from me, and the robe fell open. His body was slim and pale. Aghast, a saw that he kept his naughty bits neatly shaved. This was more than I ever wanted to know about this kid.  
  
I gulped. "Close the door," he told me. "And get on your knees."  
  
Yep. A bottom 'til the end. I was doomed. So maybe this idea had been stupid. I had to go through with it, or blow my cover. Blow. Yeah, sure. I can do that.  
  
I followed directions, and found my face level to his crotch. He held my head as I worked, clutching my hair in his fists. "Have you been practicing?" he asked me after a mere few moments. I just nodded my head, and kept working, hoping he would come quickly, so I could get the fuck out of the house.  
  
He was very large in my mouth (credit where credit is due, after all), but I managed to take him balls deep. "You really have been practicing. Fuck!" Apparently the poor boy had never had a proper blow job in his life, and as I worked, I knew his relationship with the real Crabbe would be falling apart very soon. So I gave him all I had, making him come in a matter of minutes. (I practically had to hold him up, he came so hard.) I even took a load in the mouth (which I hardly ever do). I felt sorry for the kid.  
  
"You'll do that again, next time you're over, right?" he asked me when he had recovered.  
  
I stood and nodded. "But I have to go now. . . I uh, had just stopped over to say hi. So... bye!" And I raced out the door.  
  
Dear tree, I'll never forsake you again. 


End file.
